


The Fall of the Curse

by seesncamja



Series: The Fall of the Curse [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Fantasy, M/M, Multi, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:20:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28458195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seesncamja/pseuds/seesncamja
Summary: WIP I've never played any of the series, but my friend got me hooked on Fire Emblem Heroes. This is the story I told myself about the team I had.To help you understand the quality of this story, I pulled the title off of a random title generator. All of these character traits and world building is stuff I made up based on the character designs and random quips you get from the characters in-game. I didn't even know Claude had a last name until I tagged it here. There might be fuckin; there will definitely be implications. Listen, I'm not in charge of that. Do not bring your concerns to me.With that out of the way, here's the actual summary!A terrible force has declared war on the universe. Innocents are being attacked across the galaxy, heroes are being cast from their ancient homes, kings and queens are being assassinated, and even worse, Reinhardt is there.The key to restoring balance lies in the hands (or paws) of the Dream Prince, Corrin. Claude and Camilla have been summoned to rescue this ancient power, but are they up to the task? What's more, will they be too distracted by how ridiculously good-looking they are to focus on their goals? Finally, Reinhardt is still there, for some reason. Ugh.
Relationships: Reinhardt/Claude von Riegan, claude von riegan/camilla, reinhardt/rhajat
Series: The Fall of the Curse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113665





	1. Chapter 1

Claude, King of Almyra, stepped forward. His golden boots clicked portentously on the stone floor. A soft wind blew through the wide pavilion, lifting his navy and gold cape gently from his broad shoulders. He felt the heavy weight of his bow on his back. Claude raised his bright green eyes and they landed on the most captivating form he had ever witnessed.  
Camilla, Light of Nohr, flexed her fingers around her thin, wicked-looking staff. She rolled her shoulders under her feathered mantle, letting the breeze clear away the muddled memories of the Summoning. Her lavender hair fluttered in the breeze. When she lifted her black-gloved hand to push the hair out of her red eyes, she met the gaze of the absurdly handsome man who seemed to be watching her.  
“Well, hello,” Claude stepped forward with a wily grin. He knelt to the ground in front of Camilla and reached for her hand, raising it to his lips.  
Camilla threw her head back and laughed.  
“I have to say, I don’t love being summoned, but I could get used to this kind of reception,” she replied.  
Claude stood, holding the humorous grin on his face.  
Luckily, the pair’s extended eye contact was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps.  
The Summoner stepped into the pagoda and removed their hood.  
“Oh thank the infinite gods you made it,” said the Summoner, relief washing over their face.  
Claude raised an eyebrow.  
The Summoner nodded. “Oh, it’s just that… something’s been… getting in the way, lately. It doesn’t matter,” they finished, clearly trying to move on before the pair asked any prying questions. “You’re here, and we need help. Well, not me, but the… the dreamer.”  
Camilla nodded. Her memories of her other summonings were starting to fade, but this sort of introduction seemed par for the course. She caught the green eyes of her new partner, and he seemed to be on the same page. She turned her attention back to the flustered Summoner.  
“Which prince is it this time?” She asked. “Or is it a princess?”  
The Summoner sighed, their shoulders sagging. “Wha- um, well, funny you should ask… It’s both. The dreamer is a prince and a princess. Listen, that’s not the part you need to be concerned about; you’ll know the dreamer in both forms.” The Summoner exhaled again, heavily. “Right now, or, the last time I caught sight of him, he was the prince, so, that’s how I’m going to, um. Anyway, the problem is that the Dream Prince, Corrin, has been cast out of his land, his castle, his home, by an imposter to the throne. It is cataclysmic.”  
Finally, the Summoner seemed to have caught their breath. They raised their eyes to meet the red and green ones, in turn, and held both for a moment.  
“Corrin has held his land in balance for centuries. Unfortunately, the Alliance had become comfortable in his domain; lax. The Summoner there was murdered in an abomination of the right of Summoning in order to vanquish Corrin from his place in the infinite way of things. So, he ended up here. We only tracked him down days ago, and we’ve been trying to summon heroes ever since. You are the first two who have made it through the gate…” the Summoner trailed off.  
Camilla let her gaze shift. Through the pillars of the pagoda, she could see mountains rising around them, a blue sky with only hints of cloud over the snow caps.  
“It’s too beautiful a day for such damning troubles,” she mused aloud, quietly.  
Claude nodded, watching the Summoner.  
“Damned indeed,” he agreed. He had never heard of a Summoner being murdered. His blood ran cold at the thought; all heroes agreed to the compact of summoning, and sometimes it seemed like a pain, but they all understood the need to keep the infinite in balance. To hear that someone was trying to manipulate on such a scale… it had been a long time since he had felt this fear.  
“How do we find this Dream Prince?” Camilla interrupted Claude’s morbid musings.  
The Summoner nodded and beckoned them away from the summoning stone and out of the pavilion.  
Outside, the world was glowing in the cold morning light of the high alpine. Camilla shivered and pulled her mantle around herself, a fact which Claude lamented only in the back of his mind. The duo followed the Summoner across a clean white stone floor lined with thin, elegant columns to a second open-air pavilion that mirrored the first in shape and size. This one, however, was vastly different in design. Where the summoning stone had sat in the same blankly reverential space that welcomed heroes into every new world, this pavilion was covered in ornate and detailed paintings. Every pillar, every inch of ceiling, and every stone under foot was packed with intricately carved linework that was filled in with paintings of immaculate perfection. Claude paused before setting foot in this room; for some reason, it felt sacrilegious.  
Camilla had no such pause, and brushed past her new companion to follow the Summoner into the middle of the room. The Summoner sat on the floor and crossed their legs, then looked up at Camilla and indicated for her to follow suit. They were joined by Claude moments later. The Summoner closed their eyes and inhaled deeply, holding the breath deep in their chest.  
As the Summoner exhaled, Camilla saw an unnatural fog escape from the Summoner’s mouth. The Summoner kept breathing out the fog, filling the ornate room. Soon, wisps of grey hit the ceiling and the fog grew thick, until Camilla lost sight of her two allies. A pity, she thought, letting her eyelids fall closed; she had enjoyed looking at the face of this apparent gentleman.  
Images swirled through her mind; a chestnut horse, rearing in fury; a field of glowing purple leaves; a pair of iridescent butterflies, caught and crushed in a gloved fist. Then, the images cleared, and Camilla opened her eyes. She was still sitting on the floor of the ornate pagoda, but the fog had concentrated into an orb of solid smoke hovering in the air in the middle of the three supplicants. She glanced across to the other two, but no one met her eyes. She redirected her focus into the orb.  
A scene started to take shape. A great white and blue beast was curled up, its horned head resting on a mossy forest floor. The shape was so still that Camilla started to wonder if their quarry had already passed on, but then, slowly, the head lifted and a white eyelid peeled back, revealing a terrible black hole.  
Seeing that eye, Claude was struck with a sense of revulsion that sank into the pit of his stomach. He clenched his refined jaw, but kept his eyes on the scene in the orb. Suddenly, the consuming blackness of the hole shimmered and was replaced by a golden glow. Claude felt the repulsion ebb, and tried to refocus on the new. He found himself staring at the gold, trying to see if there was any hint of that horrible darkness that had been there before; he felt like he was being swallowed by this well of golden light.  
Then, the image was gone. The fog started to dissipate, but Claude and Camilla could both see that a golden glimmer was remaining at the center of the fog. By the time the mist had cleared, Camilla recognized the form of an iridescent butterfly, floating in the middle of the room.  
The Summoner sighed and rolled their head on their shoulders.  
“Welp,” they said, “I think that’s all the help I can give you.”  
Claude raised his eyebrows, but before he could announce his confusion Camilla raised her hand lightly toward the butterfly. It landed briefly on her hand, and then took off once more, heading toward the exit.  
“So, we have to follow that?” Claude asked.  
The Summoner and Camilla shared a brief look, and then the Summoner answered.  
“I believe so. Oh! Wait, I do have something else for you guys, hold on…” They scampered out of the room and returned moments later carrying two crystal orbs.  
“Orbs?” Claude asked.  
“Yes,” the Summoner answered, “these are Summoning Orbs. We usually use them to sort of… concrete the energy of a summoning so that it’s successful, but this time I tried something new, when I realized… Well, I realized that I was losing your steeds.”  
At this, both Camilla and Claude started in alarm, but the Summoner raised their hands placatingly, “They’re fine, don’t worry, I promise you that both your dragons are in perfect health, it’s just that I couldn’t get them all the way through, so I had to kind of bind them to these orbs… They’re the last ones I had.”  
The Summoner handed Camilla and Claude each an orb. Camilla cradled hers in both hands, wondering if she could really see the heart of her dragon in this misty, rainbow-filled cage.  
“You will have to find another Summoner if you want to get them out. I’m sorry. It was the only thing I could do…”  
“Thank you,” Camilla heard from her companion. “If the Alliance is facing all the trouble you have told us about, this is truly a sacrifice. Thank you,” Claude finished sincerely, tucking the orb containing his fine steed into a pouch secured to his side. Camilla followed suit.  
“Thank you,” said the Summoner. “I only wish there was more I could do to aid you on your journey; you are doing more than you know.”  
Claude and Camilla left the summoning site with a pack of provisions between them, following the butterfly south.  
Claude shivered and took the scarf from around his waist and wrapped it around his head and neck. Camilla sighed in disappointment.  
“What a shame,” she said.  
“What?” Claude said.  
“I enjoyed looking at that pretty little mouth of yours,” she responded with a little smirk.  
Under his scarf, Claude grinned. The pair shared a thought.  
This was going well!

Reinhardt’s knees hit the ground with a crack. He heaved, spitting up bile and blood. His head was pounding, filled with images, images, too many images. He threw up again and tried to focus his eyes on the liquid crawling across the floor, seeping into his white gloves. His vision shifted sideways, and he fell onto his side, losing consciousness.

Some time later, Reinhardt returned to the waking world. He groaned, tasting blood in his mouth. Where was he? How did he get here? Slowly, painfully, Reinhardt pulled himself onto his hands and knees. He coughed, then coughed again, wracking his overworked spine with pain. He moaned louder, pressing his forehead into the cold floor. He pulled in a trembling breath, then, slowly, vertebra by vertebra, straightened his neck so that he was staring directly downward. He brought in another breath and squeezed his eyelids tight, then opened them slowly. Tears of pain dripped down his long lashes. Reinhardt clenched his jaw and took in another shaking breath, pushing himself back onto his haunches.  
He was squatting in the middle of a rough-hewn stone room. He had been here before - but before he could finish that thought, his mind was split open by a shock of lightning. Reinhardt screamed and grasped his head. When the pain lifted enough for him to see again, he found himself back on the floor. Reinhardt lost himself for a moment, and came back to the present half-sobbing, half-laughing.  
Choking back his hysteria, Reinhardt clenched his shaking fists and raised himself, once more, into sitting position. He closed his eyes and opened them, keeping his gaze straight forward. Then, tucking his chin, Reinhardt raised himself to his feet. Every joint in his body ached. The pain was deep; it sank down to his bones. He gritted his teeth and straightened his spine. Finally, he was fully erect. Reinhardt swished the moisture around in his mouth and spit out a gobbit of blood. Then, his whole body clenched, Reinhardt raised his eyes to take in his surroundings.  
Through his mussed hair, he could see two things; a massive, deeply carved stone; and a body.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Chaptening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Camilla travel to a creepy little town in the mountains, definitely not inspired by the movie Van Helsing starring Huge Jackedman. Meanwhile, Reinhardt's luck takes a turn! For the worse! If only he would just die

Reinhardt limped across the floor, aching with every step. At first, he thought he was losing his vision, but then he realized that the form on the floor really was disappearing. He lunged at the last moment, landing on the hard stone floor with a fistful of white fabric in his hand for a split second before it, too, vanished, and Reinhardt was left with only a renewed shock of pain in his side and an increased sense of frustration. This time, however, he did not have to fight against his mind in order to stand back up - though he did spit out another wad of blood and goo when he was finally back on his feet.   
Then, he noticed something odd. His gloves, normally pristine white, and his slacks (also white), were red with blood. A moment’s panic overtook him as his mind told him that he was bleeding out, but Reinhardt quelled the thought, looking for a rational answer. There was a pool of blood on the floor where the body had disappeared. Reinhardt furrowed his brow and knelt down to confirm what his sight told him; yes, the blood had remained where the body had gone. How strange. He placed his hand in the rich red pool, fingers outstretched, and swirled the blood to the side, drawing an Original Sigil on the messy stone floor. One final time, he forced himself back onto his feet.   
This time, Reinhardt made a fatal mistake.   
At the pivotal moment of his rising, Reinhardt lost his balance and reached out to the massive stone to steady himself. As soon as he did, the following occurred in immediate succession.  
First, a lightning bolt leaped out of the stone and rode Reinhardt’s body from the tips of his fingers through his boots into the ground. Second, the top half of the stone sheared off in a gigantic chunk, and began to slide towards Reinhardt. Third, Reinhardt became aware of a terrible cracking noise. Fourth, the sliding of the stone trapped Reinhardt’s glove in the infinitesimal gap between two halves. Fifth, the bolt of electricity blasted Reinhardt off his feet, and he slammed against the cave wall. Finally, less than a second after he had touched the stone, the top half of it shattered against the ground.  
Reinhardt sat slumped against the wall. His vision was dark, verging on going black. He pulled his hand in front of him; this time, he knew, it was his blood. 

Claude struck his flint again, to no avail. He exhaled and rubbed his hands across his eyes; he just wanted some coffee. Claude started striking the flint again, but he accidentally skipped his striker across his hand. He yelped in pain and tossed the flint across the fire pit. He swore and heard a light laugh from what he had assumed was the still-sleeping form of his new comrade.  
Camilla snorted, then crept out of her sleeping bag and crouched next to Claude. She pulled her gloves off and stretched out her fingers and half-shut her eyes. Moments later, Claude gasped as a fire burst into existence in his pit.   
“Huh,” Claude said succinctly.  
“You’re welcome,” Camilla nodded and stood up.  
Camilla took stock of her first morning in this new world. It was well below freezing; she wrapped her cloak around herself and walked off into the forest for some privacy. She crouched above a foot of snow and watched her morning pee melt a hole in the upper crust.   
Claude boiled some of the snow above the magic fire and set two light metal cups to his side for the pour-over. When Camilla came back, so did the luminescent butterfly that was leading them to the Dream Prince.   
“It looks like we’re still heading south?” Claude asked.  
“I think so. Hopefully, it gets warmer once we’re out of these mountains…” Camilla trailed off. The day before, they had descended from the Summoning for hours on end. Every once in a while, the duo had been blessed with a short respite of flat ground, but for the most part they had spent the day bracing themselves on the downhill. The days were long, though, and they had eventually reached a stream that carved through a valley, and gave them somewhere flat to spend the night. The valley floor, however, was still freezing, and the mountains that rose around them were craggy and packed with snow.   
Claude and Camilla packed camp and started their day’s march while the coffee was still hot. They traveled in silence for most of the morning as first, they both woke up, and then as the trail meandered uphill and the heroes were too busy gasping for breath to speak.  
By midday, they had reached the apex of another mountain ridge, and they took in the breathtaking view. The mountains stretched to the edge of the horizon in all directions.   
Claude shaded his eyes, and then he saw something that gave him hope.  
“Look!” He pointed to a cleft in the mountains. Camilla peered along the length of Claude’s arm until she, too, saw the strange shapes in the valley far below.  
“You think it’s a village?” She asked.  
Claude nodded, and Camilla exhaled in relief.  
“Thank goodness,” she went on, “I have to admit, I’ve gotten used to the finer things, since being crowned.”   
Claude laughed, “I’m right there with you. Back before I won the war, I spent more nights sleeping out on the rocks than I spent indoors. But now… I think I spent most of last night rolling around…”  
Camilla laughed. “Oh, I am aware. I was worried you might launch an attack with your thrashing.”  
“Oh no,” Claude blushed.  
“Oh, don’t worry about it my dear,” Camilla laid her hand on Claude’s arm, “your night writhings were a great source of entertainment to distract me from my own discomforts.”   
“Glad to be of service,” Claude’s face was hot; he was completely disarmed. He’d never met a woman so forward and so regal.  
Camilla laughed, loudly, and it made Claude grin as they set off down the mountainside.  
The sun was setting as they made the final approach into the town. The trail had barely widened by the time they had passed the first few signs of civilization, and any faces they saw were quickly pulled away and windows shuttered. Claude raised an eyebrow at Camilla, and both heroes were on their guards.   
By the time they approached the center of town, the sun’s last rays were just making it over the western mountains. The town square was as cold and uncaring as the tiny snowflakes that began to fall from the sky. Camilla looked around the bleak square. There were only a few buildings, most of which she could guess the use for. One building that must pass as a magistrate’s office, or a house of justice; one open-air building that the townsfolk must use for market days in bad weather; a house or two that must contain the smithy and whatever other local works these people could possibly need. Ah - there it was, the one building that could help their current predicament - the local bar.   
Their destination was a poor example of rustic charm. It was what Camilla would kindly think of as dilapidated, and the smell of the place reached out into the open town square, but it had the same recognizable yellow lamplight that marked any town’s bawdy house. It was the only place with any light, as night fell.  
Claude opened the surprisingly hefty wooden door of the place, and Camilla entered first. What she saw surprised her; she’d been expecting two or three evil-eyed drunkards spitting into their friend’s tankards and throwing up on the floor. Instead, she walked into a brightly-lit tavern. While it wasn’t filled by any means, there were enough people inside, playing darts, chatting, and betting on an exciting tournament of arm wrestling, that when all noise stopped at her entrance, she felt a twinge of self-consciousness.  
Claude stepped in behind her and he, too, stopped short at the sudden onslaught of attention. The faces that were directed their way seemed more surprised and confused than angry, so Claude waved one gauntleted hand and waved.   
“Is there a bartender tending this bar, or should we just pour our own?” He asked the audience, exerting all the charm he could muster.   
There was a chuckle somewhere in the back of the room, and just like that, the two newcomers had been accepted into the warm little community.   
In fact, there was a bartender; a brown-haired young woman wearing a bandana signaled them from behind the bar, wiping her hands on her pink apron.  
“I’m Hana,” she introduced herself. “Sorry for the wide-eyed staring; I’m going to be honest, sir, that is a ridiculous mantle you’ve got on. And madame, I’m sure you’re used to stares.”   
Hana gave Camilla an appreciating look and shook both their hands.   
“Am I assuming too much when I say that you two look like you’re going to want a room?” Hana asked, “And maybe a drink and a fresh meal?”   
Claude nodded, but Camilla interrupted with a caveat. “I don’t drink alcohol,” she said, “but I would love something sweet if you have it, my precious child?”   
The bartender blushed and nodded, looking down to try to hide the red in her cheeks.   
“Of course! We have homemade apple cider, and if you two can find a table I can bring your things over when you’re ready…”   
Camilla smiled and thanked the woman, and led Claude across the room to an open table that gave them ample space to observe their overnight stop.  
One warm meal, a mulled drink, and a change of clothes later, Camilla and Claude were settling into their room.   
“Can you imagine if there had only been one bed? How awkward,” Claude commented as he brushed his teeth.  
Camilla appeared in the mirror behind him, startling him. Claude almost choked on his toothpaste.  
“Darling, don’t ever mistake me for someone who needs an excuse to do what I want. I can make anything happen, and you, apparently, can make anything awkward.”   
With that, Camilla slammed the bathroom door closed, leaving Claude inside feeling oddly both chastised and encouraged. He finished brushing his teeth.

Reinhardt’s vision was red. He could feel the pulse of his blood as it moved through his body. He struggled to open his eyes; they felt like they were glued together. His mouth was completely dry, and he knew if he moved he would not be pleased with the results.   
Then, he felt something; a hand on his face. He tried to pull away, but his body did not respond. He groaned, and then he heard a soft voice hushing him.   
“Shh,” she said, “hush now, you poor thing.”  
Something in the tone made Reinhardt try to gulp, to respond, but the air caught in his throat and he choked. His body tried to recoil, but the searing pain in his side forced him to scream.   
There was a pressure on his legs. Reinhardt expected to be overcome with more excruciating pain, but instead the pressure seemed to numb his pain. He felt it creep up his legs, over his groin, and move up his chest. He wondered if he was going to die; as if she had heard his thoughts, the voice spoke.   
“You are going to be good, good, good, my precious, poor little broken thing. Rhajat will fix you, fix you good good good.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Camilla buddy up with Hana to fight some creepy foes. Meanwhile, Reinhardt faces his own creepy foe.

They made it halfway through the night before the screaming started. Claude leaped out of bed and ran past Camilla, who was sitting up, wide-eyed. He grabbed his bow and rushed from the room. The hallway was empty, but the screams were getting louder. Claude ran to the top of the stairwell and jumped down them three at a time.  
The scene in the dining hall was horrific. At first, Claude could barely make out what he was looking at. Then, his brain made sense of the situation.   
There were four or five humanoid creatures breaching the wall of the raggedy inn. They were humanoid in the loosest sense of the term; the one closest to Claude turned to him and shrieked. Its jaw unhinged and opened wide enough that it could swallow a child whole. It had four long arms extending from its shoulders, sticking out through tears in a tattered tunic. Its legs were long, too, and it stood several feet taller than Claude, stooping low under the ceiling of the inn.   
Keeping his eyes on the creature, Claude fumbled in his quiver for an arrow. The creature opened its mouth again and screeched, and Claude sighted down the arrow and into the creature's throat for a kill shot.   
“Look out!” Came a shout from behind him, and then Claude’s vision was obscured by the blur of a very close table falling in front of him. Claude took a half step backward and made his shot. He saw the arrow burst out of the back of the creature’s head, and it slumped to the floor.  
“What?” He shouted, looking over his shoulder it the intruder. To his surprise, he saw Hana, the barkeep. She was crouched on a table, having obviously just thrown one of the other tables across the room. She looked enraged - this was a completely different Hana than the one he had met earlier. She jerked her head toward the table on the floor, and Claude redirected his attention there.   
A high pitched hissing revealed the hidden danger that faced them, and before Claude’s eyes, the table melted into a stinking soup on the floor.   
Hana sprinted across the room as Claude reassessed the situation. The mutant had been easy enough to take down, but now there were two more where the first one had fallen, and a few more still clawing through the wall. Claude reloaded his bow and took another shot. He hit one of the new monsters in its long torso, but it didn’t have the same effect as his first shot. It did, however, get the creature’s attention, and it came loping toward him with an uneasy gait. Claude raised his bow and loosed another shot before the beast overtook him; he raised his free arm to block it, and stumbled back as a bright light flashed through the room.  
Claude hit the ground with a grunt, and grappled the giant grotesque human mutant as it tried to tear into him. He gripped the thing’s throat and face and prepared a killing blow before he realized that the beast was already dead. He looked up from the floor to see his roommate.  
Camilla had thrown on her underwear and robe and dashed down into the dining room just behind Claude. She aimed her staff at the next creature, aimed, and hit it with a blast that took a giant chunk out of its shoulder. Then, she caught movement from the corner of her eye and turned to see Hana leaping up from behind the bar with a pair of ornate axes. Less than a second later, one of the axes was embedded deep within the skull of the creature closest to the bar, and the young woman was wrenching it free and sprinting toward the beasts attacking the wall.  
Camilla jumped over the prone form of her comrade and, mid-jump, cast another attack from her staff, throwing one of the mutants out into the street. She landed and Hana rushed past her, axes at the ready. Hana stopped, planted her feet, twisted both axes to the left and then launched herself up into the last monster in the inn. It crumpled to the ground in a heap of bones and skin.   
Seeing that they had cleared the room, Camilla stopped her forward rush and turned to see how Claude was doing. He was mostly trapped underneath the massive form of the hideous mutant, and she could see him thrashing under it. As she stooped to help, Hana shouted over to the two newcomers.  
“There’s more outside!”   
Camilla’s neck snapped up as she focused out the hole in the wall. She grabbed two of the more conveniently placed limbs of the creature on top of Claude and hoisted it with all her might. With Claude pushing from below, the two together tossed the beast to the side. Then, Camilla ran over to Hana’s side with Claude in tow.  
The trio peered out into the village square. Faint screams of terror could still be heard echoing throughout the town.   
“Let’s go,” Claude said, hurling himself through the ragged opening. Camilla and Hana leapt in hot pursuit.   
The beasts were scampering unpleasantly all over the place. They were on top of buildings, clambering over walls, and striding eerily around the main thoroughfare.   
The three heroes got to work slaughtering the beasts back to back to back. Hana decapitated one with a dual-slice of her axes. Claude pierced one through the heart and pinned it to the wall of the magistrate’s office. Camilla hefted her staff like a baseball bat and smashed one of the creatures’ heads flat, sending the body spinning through the air.   
“Home run!” She shouted, pumping her staff in the air.  
They had destroyed perhaps a dozen of the beasts when the creatures shifted their attacks to a retreat, scuttling away from the three-person onslaught protecting the village. Within moments of the change in tact, the creatures had disappeared completely.   
The three of them stood panting, scanning the town for any remaining threats. To Claude’s surprise, none of the townspeople were running to the middle of the town in a panic; no one was wailing in immediate need; no weeping denizens were begging at his feet.  
Hana spit on the ground.   
“They’ll gather tomorrow, assess the damage.”  
“You’ve seen these things before?” Claude replied.  
Hana nodded, glancing in his direction. “We call them homunculi, or at least that’s what the witch said.” The young woman shrugged and sighed. Turning back to her inn, she shook her head. “There’s never been this many before, nor this much destruction.” She eyeballed the two heroes, the question unasked.  
“It is possible,” Camilla responded, frowning. Then she turned toward Claude and said, “We should have been more prepared for this. We should have been considering what our enemies might be capable of…” she trailed off and looked away.  
Hana headed toward her inn, and Claude and Camilla fell in behind her. Camilla glanced over at Claude, and he could feel her eyes looking him up and down. He tried to ignore it, but then she said, “So, you sleep naked huh?”  
Claude stood up straighter and smirked, a coy joke on the tip of his tongue that dried out when he caught Camilla’s devious grin.  
“Not that I’m complaining,” she said through bared teeth.   
A shiver of fear ran down Claude’s spine, but he hid it well, despite wearing only his bow and quiver.   
When they reached the inn, Hana started to assess the damage. Claude put on a slip and together with Camilla, helped Hana prop up the broken wall to last the night.  
Then, the trio sat in the inn, Hana putting down a pitcher of beer, Claude sipping on clear vodka, and Camilla relaxing with a sober apple cider. Hana had also pulled out a side of pulled beef brisket and stale bread, which paired perfectly with exhaustion.

The next time Reinhardt woke up, he found that he could open his eyes. He could open his eyes, but he couldn’t move. When he coughed, he found that he could swallow. He tried to look around, but he couldn’t turn his head. His nerves starting to burn, Reinhardt opened his eyes as wide as he could, trying to see what he could, if anything.   
He was still in the summoning circle. He didn’t know how long he’d been there. Had someone else been here? He tried to remember… There had been a voice, a shadow, someone holding his head. His head started to spin when he tried to focus too hard. His eyes started to burn, and he closed them tight and then blinked rapidly. That felt better.   
Reinhardt could see enough of his own body to tell that there was nothing physically restraining him. This offered him two remaining options: Either he was A) paralyzed from the top of his head down, or B) the faint memory he had was somehow responsible for this state of affairs.   
For the time being, he decided, it didn’t really matter which one it was. He didn’t know any spells that could counteract a curse of this depth, and if it was a physical ailment - well, then he was done for. As far as he knew, no one knew he was here.   
Reinhardt closed his eyes again.  
He didn’t know if he had fallen asleep, or if he had simply stopped being alive for a short while. This time, when he woke up, Reinhardt found that he could turn his head. He exhaled, almost excited, but then a cold hand clamped over his heart, and the pain flowed up his trachea. Reinhardt coughed and choked, panic rising with the pain. He couldn’t breath, he had to clear his throat but he couldn’t swallow. The air in his lungs burned; he felt like his chest was going to explode. His head felt cold, like he was going to freeze. In moments, he lost consciousness.  
Once more, Reinhardt had no concept of how much time had passed. He struggled to swim upward. He didn’t know how he had gotten underwater, but here he was. He could feel his clothes weighing him down, but he kept pushing upwards. His arms and legs felt like they’d been filled with gum, the way he could barely control them. Just out of reach of his stroke he could see the light shining through the surface of the water. He kicked furiously, and couldn’t tell if he was getting any closer. He opened his mouth and gulped down water. Then, he opened his eyes and gulped down air.   
“Augh,” he said, gasping painfully. Reinhardt hung his head, chin on his chest, and breathed deeply. He could feel an ounce of relief start to make its way through his heart, but before he could get ahead of himself, he squashed it.   
Reinhardt sat, breathing, for quite some time. He felt like his mind was barely working; he tried not to think. At some point, he felt a tingling sensation running up and down his arms. It was almost unbearable; it felt like his arms were clenching tighter and tighter with no release, but his body remained unmoving. Reinhardt groaned and pressed the back of his head into the wall behind him.   
Then, something miraculous happened. As the pain reached a zenith, Reinhardt balled his hands into fists. The pain ran like lightning from his fingertips back up to his shoulders, making Reinhardt cry out. It felt like his arms were splitting open. He looked down, to see the blood run out the wounds he knew were there. Instead, he saw that he had actually clenched his fist. A shock went through him, but before he could feel relief at reclaiming his hands, Reinhardt looked down the other side.   
Where his left hand was a weakly balled fist, his right hand was a mushy red pile of nothing. Reinhardt stared at what used to be his hand and took in a shuddering breath. A sadness washed over him.   
A noise roused him, and Reinhardt looked up, eyes wide, remaining hand clenched.


	4. Chapter 4, the Reinhardt Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reinhardt's life continues down a new path, and Claude and Camilla find out what the next steps on their odessey are going to be.

A figure wafted through the room like a phantom on the edge of Reinhardt’s reality. He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision so that he could be prepared. The thought caught him by surprise, and even more so did the cynical smile that crossed his face as an afterthought. The next surprise was the searing pain that gripped his mind, like electricity running through his head.   
Reinhardt yelled and clenched his body, anger blossoming in his chest. As soon as it did, the pain intensified. Reinhardt felt himself floating above his body, looking down at himself with a strange mix of pity and ire. Then he was back inside his body, and he felt his gloved white fist clamping down on the fear, the rage, the cynicism, and even the desire to protect himself. He quashed his reactions, exhausted, and felt the pain start to relent as well.   
A voice spoke. “Good, my little boy,” it said, “you may be ready in time…” it trailed off.  
Reinhardt looked up to see a tall, thin woman standing above him. Her straight black hair hung down over her shoulders, decorated in gold. Black gauze stretched from the sternum of her black brassiere down to the top of her baggy, open-knee pants. Her body was pure muscle, except for her voluptuous curves that would have brought anyone to their knees in front of her.  
Reinhardt, however, didn’t take any of this in. As soon as he made eye contact with this woman, Reinhardt felt himself freeze. Thoughts could not make their way through his mind; there was something knocking on the cellar door of his mental house, and he didn’t know how it got there.   
The woman beamed at him, and Reinhardt’s heart thumped. The moment it did, the bright smile on the woman’s face turned into a sneer of absolute disgust and Reinhardt’s heart constricted painfully. Reinhardt’s world was red and pulsing, but, once again, Reinhardt brought himself to his senses. He forced his eyes back into seeing and looked up at the woman, pulling his mind out of his body so that he could exist separately from his physical sensations.   
“Oh goodee!” The woman clapped her hands. “You work hard to please Rhajat yes?”  
Reinhardt grimaced, holding himself back. “Rha-jat?” He managed through clenched teeth.  
The woman - Rhajat - skipped up and down in front of Reinhardt, and he thought he felt the pain lessen. He kept his body on guard, just in case.   
Rhajat slithered up to Reinhardt, her face less than an inch from his. Reinhardt smelled something sweet and rotten, like roses left to die on the bush. Rhajat stared into Reinhardt’s eyes, looking for something. Reinhardt sat absolutely still, not breathing, not thinking, not feeling. He stared back.   
Rhajat leaned back on her haunches, crouched on top of Reinhardt, and nodded. Then, she beamed at him again and stood up, clapping her hands.  
“Good! Good boy! He’s doing good for Rhajat!” she stopped suddenly. “But he smells terrible.” She looked down at Reinhardt and repeated herself to him. “You smell terrible,” she said. Rhajat cocked her head, looking Reinhardt up and down. He tried not to respond. He didn’t even feel insulted; any sense of personal pride that he had brought with him into this world had disappeared some time after he had been paralyzed on this wall. He wondered dimly if he had soiled himself; he couldn’t feel anything, but he also had no idea how long he’d been here. He tried not to think about it. He looked back up at the woman, watching her move around the room, taking him in from different angles. He wondered if he had imagined being able to move his hands, and he tried to focus there again.   
His left pointer finger twitched, and faster than he could process Rhajat was down next to his left side on her hands and knees. Reinhardt watched her creep her fingers forward across the floor next to him; they looked like weird spiders, her nails clacking across the floor. She took his hand in both of hers like a tiny treasure and stroked it. Suddenly, Reinhardt shivered. Then, Rhajat drove her fingernails into Reinhardt’s hand, and he gasped. When he gasped, a different pain wracked his body, like iron bands latching to his ribs underneath his skin. He shouted again, his vision going blurry before going black.  
When Reinhardt awoke he was once again alone. His arms tingled painfully and he pushed the discomfort to the back of his mind. A vinegrous smell hit his face and he looked down and realized that he had vomited on himself at some point. Reinhardt sighed. He was so exhausted; he wasn’t really sure how he was still alive. He supposed it had something to do with that strange woman, Rhajat. But why would she be keeping him alive?  
A sharp pain ran up his right arm, driving the questions from his mind. He tilted his head so that he could see his mangled hand, and stared at it. His right glove had been soaked through with blood for as long as he could remember, but now there was a new, distressing, green shade to the situation.   
Reinhardt turned away from the sight and closed his eyes. He fell asleep again.  
The next time Reinhardt woke up it was because he felt like his right arm had been plunged into an ice bath. He knew as soon as he reacted that he had done the wrong thing. In immediate succession, he woke up, experienced the horrifying sensation attacking his arm, seized up in response to the pain, and then felt the customary pain response from the rest of his body. This time, he was not given the luxury of blacking out. Reinhardt slipped out of his body once again, standing above and behind himself as his body writhed. Somehow, his lip curled in disdain; was this what he was now? A worthless creature, wriggling like a grub on the floor? Reinhardt wanted to slap this disgusting beast. He understood.   
He found himself back in his body. The pain was still there, but he was growing used to it. He relaxed a little, letting the pain soak into his bones. 

Camilla and Claude slept in late the day after they took down their first homunculi. By the time Camilla woke up the next morning, her roommate was gone and the sun was blazing in through the windows. She yawned and stretched, working her shoulders around as she got out of bed. Camilla dressed and made her way downstairs.  
Hana was behind the bar, pouring frothy beers for a team of locals that were putting the wall back together. Camilla looked around, and, not seeing Claude, approached the barkeep. She noticed the young woman blush as she approached, and looked down at herself to make sure nothing inappropriate was showing. It wasn’t, and she couldn’t help her proportions.   
Hana handed Camilla a cup of steaming coffee, then went back to tending the bar. Camilla sipped the coffee, wondering if Hana was pointedly trying to avoid eye contact. She decided to try to find out a little bit more about the woman who by all appearances was a simple barkeep, despite the evidence Camilla had witnessed the night before.   
“How long have you lived in this town?” Camilla asked, leaning against the counter.  
“I’ve lived here my whole life,” Hana replied, glancing up at Camilla. She started wiping down the counter. “Twenty-four years.”  
So young! Camilla thought. She asked, “Is this your family’s inn?”  
Camilla saw Hana’s form tighten, and she didn’t answer right away. Then, Hana shook herself, and chuckled before she responded. “Sorry,” she said, “it’s just that most everyone I see these days already knows the answer to that question. I… grew up outside of town. It used to be a lot bigger, back then. But then, about ten years ago, the homunculi started attacking. I mean, attacking harder. We’ve always had problems with the creatures - they were like the boogeyman, terrors that we would hear about when we were kids. Scary monsters that we would tell each other ghost stories about.   
“When I was a kid, one time a group of us spent a night out in the forest; it was a test of courage, and we scared ourselves silly running around the woods, jumping out at each other…”  
Hana trailed off and turned her face from Camilla. Camilla savored her coffee; if anything, she was good at listening. And, she liked Hana. This girl was a fighter, and that wasn’t easy in a town like this.  
“They started out in the boons,” Hana eventually went on, “out where we couldn’t call for help. They came at night. First it was one or two, then three, then half a dozen in a night. There was no way…” Hana was quiet for a moment.  
“A lot of people left. Those who could, did. Those of us who couldn’t… well, we stayed here. I took over here with a friend of mine, Takumi. She’s not here any more.”  
Hana seemed to be finished, leaving more than one question unanswered. Camilla decided to leave her where she was for the moment. She nodded and caught Hana’s eye then laid her hand across the table to comfort the innkeeper. Hana exhaled and reciprocated.  
The women were interrupted by a commotion near the hole in the wall. Camilla turned to see one of the massive logs that had been propping up the wall start to tip. In slow motion, she watched the beam start to tumble. It was going to fall on the workers - all they had wanted was to help out, and now they were going to be crushed for their efforts - maimed, if not killed. Camilla leapt to her feet, but she knew she wasn’t going to make it in time.  
Luckily, there was someone nearby who could. Claude leapt through the shrinking hole and caught the timber beam on his shoulders. The volunteers lunging out of the way caught themselves and gasped, and even Camilla let out an appreciative sigh. Everyone took a moment to take in the sight of the man crouched singularly underneath a beam that was triple his height and just as wide around. Then, people sprung into motion. Two people flanked Claude and helped him lift the log off his shoulders. Three others ran to prop up the wall that it had been holding, and the rest went back to work, slapping Claude on the back and shaking his hand as they did.  
When he finally made it through the crowd he was grinning and Camilla smiled back. She felt Hana reclaim her hand before the young woman moved away to check in on the volunteers.  
“Way to make an entrance,” Camilla said, leaning over the counter to where she had seen Hana leave the coffee-making equipment.   
Claude sat down heavily next to Camilla and accepted the steaming mug she offered with a gracious nod.  
“You look tired,” Camilla said, taking in her partner’s countenance. He had little pieces of twigs and leaf in his hair, and a small scratch on his cheek.  
Claude nodded.   
“Where have you been all morning?” She asked, softening her pitch.  
Claude sighed and sipped his coffee, then he answered. “I went out to track down those creatures, see if I could figure out where they’re coming in from. The trail brought me pretty far out of town - it wasn’t hard to follow, for the most part. But then the forest turned into a swamp, and any tracks were lost in the mud. It was like they just disappeared - even before that,” Claude blew on his coffee and took another sip, brushing his hair back from his face before continuing, “before that, the trees were all marked, you know, scratched up, beaten up. They’re clearly not intelligent. But as soon as the ground turned, all traces vanished. I spent hours in that marsh. It was impossible to navigate; it was like the ground itself was trying to keep me there. And it smelled terrible, just awful.”   
Claude sighed again and sat back on his stool. Camilla pursed her lips and leaned over her own mug of coffee, and the pair sat in thoughtful silence for a little while.   
Camilla took a moment to recount the pertinent bits of her morning conversation with Hana, before finally asking, “Do you think this has anything to do with our mission here?”   
Claude shrugged. “I really can’t say. I definitely think it’s suspicious that these monsters showed up in such great force the same night that we did. It sounds like they’re growing braver, though… at the end of the day, I don’t know how much it matters if the two are connected. I can’t leave a town unprotected when I know it is being haunted by such beasts. These people need us, and I think we need to help them.”   
Camilla looked at her partner, and her heart swelled. His eyes glowed with conviction. As tired as he had seemed before, Claude now looked ready to take on an army. Camilla smiled and nodded.  
“Well said, my new friend. I would not be able to return to my realm with pride if we abandoned these people. I am glad we agree.” Then, Camilla reached across the space between them and touched the dried blood on Claude’s face. Her hand glowed a gentle lilac and Claude felt a cool calming sensation run through his body. When Camilla pulled away, Claude’s face was healed, and his heart felt alleviated.  
Later that day, after a quick rest, Camilla and Claude told Hana of their intentions. The young woman nearly cried with relief. Staying strong, however, she expressed her gratitude with helpful information.  
“There is a witch,” Hana told them. “She lives deep in the forest, and does not like to be visited. Two years ago, my dear friend went to search for her - both of our parents had told us the legends of a powerful, knowledgeable witch who reigns in this region. Takumi’s parents told her that the witch used to protect us from these homunculi, but that several generations ago, something happened, and the witch sequestered herself. We don’t know what happened… but Takumi thought she could figure out a way to help. I haven’t seen her since she left town.” Hana looked down, struggling to keep her emotions at bay. Even so, she wiped her hand across her face and then looked up at Claude and Camilla with bright eyes.  
“Now, though, I think we really might have hope.”


End file.
